


the 18th of may

by novoaa1



Category: DCU, Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Bottom Lena Luthor, Established Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, F/F, Good times, Kara cooks dinner, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, Lena Luthor Needs a Hug, Light Praise Kink, POV Lena Luthor, a bit of introspection on lena's part, anywho, birthday sex! birthday sex, candlelit dinner!, i really dont know what to tell you here dude, it's cute, kara's earth birthday!, look it was supposed to be just smutty and then it turned soft, my friend ambushed me various times blaring that song on my birthday, what's that one song, you know how it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24730039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novoaa1/pseuds/novoaa1
Summary: “Holy Rao. Y-You wore this… " Kara rumbles out disbelievingly, her voice dry and hoarse even as her tongue flickers out to wet kiss-swollen lips. (Lena yearns to feel them against her own once more.) "Forme?”Lena feels a genuine smile curving her tingling lips at the reverence in Kara’s hungered gaze, the quiet awe laid bare amidst a sea of primordial lust, the kind Lena knows very well will drown her without cause if she isn’t careful. (Honestly, she’s running out of reasons to believe that that would be such a bad thing.) “Happy Earth birthday, darling.”“Rao, you’re so beautiful, Lee,” Kara reveres ardently, and Lena aches to believe her.“Flatterer,” she deflects instead, and hopes that Kara’s too… distracted to see through it (—to see throughher).Or: It's Kara's Earth birthday! And they're both really soft because they're in love
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 8
Kudos: 318





	the 18th of may

**Author's Note:**

> i don't really have a good excuse for this one uh
> 
> it kinda got a little bit out of hand, especially since it was supposed to be just kinda smutty and then boOm feelings and softness... is this because i went to mormon church for 20 minutes last sunday? much to think about
> 
> idk i just wanted to get back into writing for them cause it's been a while and i still havent seen the newest season lolol but i plan to
> 
> let me know what you think?

After a handful of months dating (and nearly a year’s time being friends with) one Kara Danvers (AKA Supergirl AKA the galaxy's biggest super-powered alien dork), Lena’s been made to accept a handful of somewhat confounding things as her new reality… perhaps most prominently of all, the sheer _novelty_ that was— _is_ —life with Kara Danvers. 

And honestly, for the most part, there isn’t anything _terribly_ off-putting about it all. 

It’s just a matter of patience, and always keeping her poker face firmly in place… and wine. (A _lot_ of wine.) 

Sure, it took a little while to get used to the whole “my best friend can fly and shoot lasers out of her eyes” thing, and yes, maybe it did very nearly give her a heart attack the first time she witnessed Kara sticking her bare hand into the 400º-heated oven and grabbing hold of the burning-hot metal sheet filled with perfectly-baked chocolate-chip cookies (and managing to do so entirely unharmed, no less) like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

And, that’s not even to _mention_ the time she “accidentally” sneezed on one of L-Corp’s more loud-mouthed geriatric misogynist board members after he called Lena a “frigid bitch” for shutting down his blatant flirting mid-meeting and turned his entire left arm into an icicle, _or_ the numerous pieces of Lena’s furniture she’s broken, a number that only increased exponentially upon the gradual development of their relationship from strictly platonic to… something more. 

(They’re on their fifth bed since Kara broke the last four. 

Their last intimate encounter left the living room in a truly horrendous state of disarray… not that Lena much cares, of course; she’s positive she's never come so hard—or so many times—in her entire _life_.)

But, sure. 

Things were different with Kara. They always had been. 

(And Lena is _nothing_ if not adaptable.)

But sometimes, once in a while, _on occasion_ … Kara surprises her. 

Case in point: 

The 18th of May (Kara’s Earth birthday) falls on a Thursday. 

They’ve been dating for four months, and friends for much longer, and things are… suspiciously wonderful. 

It’s a good day, too (something Lena knows very well not to take for granted): 

The skies above are a vivid cerulean blue, nearly devoid of clouds, bolstering the brilliant amber sunstar which hovers proudly overhead. There’s a saccharine-sweet breeze blowing gently amidst the winds, smelling of syrupy honeysuckle and freshly brewed coffee and the delectable sticky buns from Noonan’s just three blocks south from Lena’s offices at L-Corp. 

Even better, there have only been one or two supernatural planet-threatening instances _all day_ that have demanded Supergirl’s assistance (truly a new record, as far as Lena knows), the workload at L-Corp has proven unusually light all throughout this week (today proves no exception) to allow Lena a relatively stress-free 12-hour shift, and Kara is happy. Glowing, even. 

(Really, that’s all that truly matters—it’s all that’s _ever_ really mattered, if Lena’s being perfectly honest with herself.)

She’s home by 7:00pm on the dot (much to Jess’ painfully evident open-mouthed shock), only to find Kara darting frantically this way and that through the air around Lena's seldom-used kitchen, evidently mid-way through her most recent attempt at cooking. 

And, when Lena chuckles and tells her there’s no need for Kara to worry herself with dinner (because this is _her_ Earth birthday, after all), that Lena’s more than willing (and had initially planned) to handle their evening meal herself, Kara just blushes deeply and awkwardly thrusts a near-overflowing glass of blood-red wine into Lena’s hands and murmurs something almost unintelligible about “Alex said cooking is the way to anyone’s heart” as if that even remotely begins to explain the pungent aroma of burnt food that permeates the air all around or the line of melted deep-brown chocolate smeared messily beneath Kara’s jaw or the angry-sounding griddle of olive oil crackling noisily atop the stove. 

(It’s _perfect_.)

But really, that isn’t even the start. 

Dinner is lovely—a black kale and pink lady-apple salad followed by Japanese-style breaded-and-fried chicken with homemade Tonkatsu sauce as the main dish and French chocolate soufflés for dessert. (Needless to say, Lena’s _definitely_ hitting up the gym tomorrow morning.) 

They eat by yellowed candlelight, exchanging blessedly mundane conversation, basking in each other’s company. And all the while, Lena feels a curious sensation traveling betwixt her shoulder blades to curl tightly around the base of her spine, the kind that’s telling her that this is what it’s like to be pampered, to feel cherished and valued and _worth_ something. 

It feels like _her_ special day rather than Kara’s (not that she’s ever had “special day”s to begin with), though she suspects that that’s very much so the point. 

(Still, she searches for a proverbial window through which to confront Kara about this as the evening languishes on, because Luthors are selfish but Lena is not—that is a hill she will gladly die upon. 

She refuses to allow Kara to needle her way through Lena’s defenses like she has upon every other instance, not here. Not now. Not with this. 

Because it’s a slippery slope, greed and self-absorption. Lena knows that better than most. 

All it takes is one slip, one moment of negligence, and sooner than you’ll believe you’re falling—tumbling down, sinking farther and farther until it seems a sheer impossibility to ever pull yourself back up.

It happened to Lionel. It happened to Lex. It happened to Lillian. 

Lena has never fancied herself so painfully dense as to believe it may never happen to her, too.)

An hour later finds them stumbling into the bedroom, Kara’s steady hands gentle upon her hips, Lena’s arms wound tightly ( _desperately_ ) around Kara’s neck. 

Their lips slot together in a filthy open-mouthed kiss that has stars exploding behind Lena’s eyes and a delectably intoxicating haze (that, interestingly enough, has very little to do with the alcohol) settling over her scattered thoughts and a very near overwhelming _desire_ curling around her limbs and seeping beneath her skin and carving a home for itself deep in her very bones such that she fears it may never leave.

“Kara,” Lena gasps breathlessly out when they get a moment, when Kara’s questing lips pull away from hers for the most fleeting of seconds to allow for Lena to regain her breathing, curiosity and want and _need_ warring violently within her until it’s all she can do not to cry out beneath the weight of it all. 

“Lena,” Kara breathes reverently in reply, her forehead pressed ever-so-gently against Lena’s. Her eyes, once cerulean blue like the skies overhead, are near black—pupils blown wide with a lust that Lena can _feel_ scraping persistently against her skin, begging wordlessly for her inevitable surrender. 

“How do you want me?” she purrs against Kara’s lips with all the allure she can manage, fingers scratching absentmindedly at the base of Kara’s scalp, working to soothe the tangled dirty-blonde strands that threaten to escape the neat ponytail dangling from the crown of her skull. “Tell me what you want, gorgeous."

Kara shudders at that, her grip tightening reflexively upon either of Lena’s hips. 

Lena finds herself smirking at that despite her near-asthmatic state. 

“Do you want me on my knees?” she asks with an unabashedly saturated note of faux innocence in her pouting tone, feigning naiveté even as she feels Kara growl against the delicate flesh at the crook of her neck, teeth scraping against her pulse point with the shamefully pleasurable promise of pain. “Do you want my mouth between your thighs, licking and sucking until you tell me to stop?” Kara’s hands tighten around her waist at that, bordering on hard enough to bruise, and Lena knows she’s close to breaking. “Or, do you want me on the bed? Ass up, face down, vulnerable and exposed, ready to take whatever you see fit to give me— _oh!_ "

A firm bite to the flesh just aloft her left collarbone has her interjecting her own ramblings with a high-pitched whine as the stinging sensation briskly overwhelms all higher function, causing her to whimper and squirm pitifully in Kara’s unyielding grasp, a fresh gush of arousal from between her thighs dampening the crotch of her lacey black panties (complement to a matching bra and stockinged garter-belt of the expensive lingerie set she’d purchased solely for this occasion) with embarrassing haste. 

Kara releases her reddening flesh from betwixt her teeth long enough to snarl, “Tease” lowly against Lena’s throat, only to skate her warm lips in a frustratingly slow line up towards Lena’s jaw, sinking her teeth _hard_ into various tender spots along the way. 

Each nip is firm, long enough to guarantee a line of purplish bruises by morning, and Lena really can’t find it in herself to care. 

“Y-You never answered my question,” she manages to choke out when Kara gives the left side of her throat a reprieve for the briefest of moments, only to return with startling speed to the unmarked flesh on her right and start anew, pulling inelegant gasps and moans from Lena on every sinfully-wet bite. 

Kara hums, nibbling at and sucking along her pulse point for a long moment before releasing her skin with a _pop_ , apparently satisfied with her handiwork (if the ~~arousing~~ infuriating grin evident in her husked voice is anything to go by): “How attached would you say you are to this _stunning_ dress you’re wearing?"

Lena gulps, clenching her thighs uselessly together in an attempt to quell the rampant white-hot arousal threatening to ravage her from inside out. “Not particularl—"

_Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip!_

She doesn’t even get all the way through her dissenting reply before Kara’s warm hands are disappearing from her waist in favor of gripping the admittedly low-cut V-shaped neckline of her snow-white skin-tight Balenciaga gown (the one that had Kara practically drooling this morning even as she knows it borders dangerously on the edge of being decidedly inappropriate for work) and _yanking_ it apart in a blur of supernaturally-quick movement. 

Kara makes short work of the garment (unsurprisingly), even with its long sleeves and deceivingly conservative length (its hemline stopping just an inch or two above the knee)—though, admittedly, those traditional features are offset rather startlingly by the large concave-diamond-shaped cutout spanning from just inches below the nape of her neck to the twin dimples at the base of her spine, leaving the clip of her lacey-black bra cleanly on display along with a teasing peek at the matching garter belt secured snugly beneath her waistline. Suffice it to say—a worthy purchase, even if one that only lasts for a night. 

“Eager, are we?” Lena jibes, though it’s entirely lacking in any real mirth, her hoarse words saturated with desperation and euphoria and scarcely-concealed _want_. 

For better or worse, though, Kara ignores her quip as the tattered pieces of expensive white fabric to fall unceremoniously at Lena’s feet, once-blue (but now almost black-looking) irises drawn hungrily to every inch of Lena’s exposed figure—lingering hungrily upon her scantily-clad breasts one moment, darting briskly down to her arousal-damp crotch (something she prays isn’t visible in the low light of their shared master bedroom) the next, then traveling restlessly down her stocking-clad thighs with a wide-eyed fascination, her attentions moving this way and that with dizzying haste as if overwhelmed, unsure of where to settle her ravenous gaze.

“Holy Rao. Y-You wore this… " Kara rumbles out disbelievingly, her voice dry and hoarse even as her tongue flickers out to wet kiss-swollen lips. (Lena yearns to feel them against her own once more.) "For _me?_ ” 

Lena feels a genuine smile curving her tingling lips at the reverence in Kara’s hungered gaze, the quiet awe laid bare amidst a sea of primordial lust, the kind Lena knows very well will drown her without cause if she isn’t careful. (Honestly, she’s running out of reasons to believe that that would be such a bad thing.) “Happy Earth birthday, darling.”

“Rao, you’re so beautiful, Lee,” Kara reveres ardently, and Lena aches to believe her.

“Flatterer,” she deflects instead, and hopes that Kara’s too… distracted to see through it (—to see through _her_ ). 

“It isn’t flattery if it’s the truth.” Kara doesn’t miss a beat, and if Lena sees an unmistakable flare of devastating sincerity flash in Kara’s lust-blown gaze, she declines to linger on it for very long. “You’re beautiful, Lena Luthor, and I’ll gladly spend all my days telling you just how much until you believe it.”

Her words are so full with a fervent intensity, charged with passion and well-meaning and something Lena’s terrified to believe is the truth, and heaven help her but she very nearly chokes on it where she stands, half-naked and vulnerable and _wanting_ in the presence of a woman—a _goddess_ —she’s come to care for with an intensity that threatens to cripple her on her better days and _destroy_ her on her worse… and sure, maybe it’s foolish, and childish, and a million other unsavory things, but Lena loves her. 

Lena _loves_ her, loves her so damned much it feels like her lungs are collapsing, like her chest is caving in upon itself, like something is strangling her bleeding heart the longer she holds out, pushing and pushing and _pushing_ until it’s fruitless to fight it, until it’s all she can do not to sink to her knees and bare her bruise-ridden throat and beg for forgiveness at her feet (as if she fancies herself worthy enough for such a thing to begin with).

“Kara,” she whimpers out, swaying perilously where she stands and—

Suddenly, Kara’s _there_ —the starch-white fabric of her favorite Oxford button-down pressed surely up against Lena’s stomach, lean well-muscled arms curling tightly 'round her naked waist, glossy-eyed devotion shimmering in desire-blown pupils bordered sparingly around the edges with a familiar glacial blue. 

(Lena, in turn, rests her arms atop Kara’s broad shoulders and loops them loosely around her exposed neck and hangs on for dear life, because—

_Christ_ , she thinks. _How did we get here?_ )

“I know, my love,” she whispers back, her breath warm against Lena’s kiss-swollen lips, and Lena believes her. “I know. Let me take care of you, okay? Let me show you what I feel for you. Let me _prove_ to you how much I love you.”

And, Jesus fuck it all, because how in all of _hell_ is Lena meant to deny her that?

∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂

In the blink of an eye (or, at least, that’s certainly what it _feels_ like unto to Lena’s uncharacteristically jumbled thoughts), the scene shifts. 

All too suddenly (or perhaps not suddenly _enough_ ), she’s altogether naked—in every sense of the word—beneath Kara’s indefatigable gaze, sprawled inelegantly atop the fleece-white duvet spanning across a king-sized bed they’ve begun to call _theirs_ , all demurely closed thighs and blush-pink cheeks and wide pleading eyes that practically _beg_ Kara to get on with it and fuck her, pleading with her to sate the corrosive _desire_ that threatens to swallow her whole. 

And Kara—sweet, loving, attentive Kara—merely chuckles at Lena’s axiomatic need where she stands at the foot of the bed, busying herself instead with methodically rolling up either sleeve to bare sculpted ochre-tan forearms to Lena’s round-eyed gaze, remaining fully-clothed even as gooseflesh rises upon every inch of Lena’s naked skin and she feels a full-bodied shudder work its way down her spine. 

“Earlier, you asked me what I wanted,” Kara deliberates steadily, tone rough with craving. 

Lena’s bare chest heaves where she lies, propping herself up on either elbow to meet Kara’s borderline predatory gaze; still, she exacts a pretense of insouciance into her voice and upon her sweat-dotted features as she answers drolly, “I did.”

If it registers, Kara doesn’t let on. 

Instead, she leans almost imperceptibly forward, allowing her hands to settle atop the unmarked flesh of Lena’s milky-pale thighs, dancing languidly across her skin in a horribly distracting manner… And—

“ _Oh!_ ” Lena gasps as Kara’s grip quite suddenly tightens and in a split second she’s yanking Lena forth to the edge of the mattress, allowing for the soles of her feet to rest atop familiar carpeted flooring betwixt Kara’s similarly bare-footed stance. _Jesus_. 

Kara retreats ever-so-slightly from the bed, then, and God help her, but Lena almost _mewls_ at the loss. (Later she’ll realize why Kara did it, that she stepped back to allow Lena room to fulfill her ensuing request… Still, Lena wishes she didn’t have to.) 

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” she murmurs out, faint yet firm, the tips of her fingers reaching to carry out yet another fainéant waltz atop Lena's thighs. 

(The feather-light touch is slowly driving her _mad_ with wanting, and idly she takes a moment to wonder exactly when this evening derailed so spectacularly, when it altered itself from Kara’s special day to…. _this_.) 

It takes a second for the words to register (likely more, though Lena’s beginning to lose her sense of time), but as soon as they do, her knees (once pressed so daintily together as if that action alone might salvage what’s left of her rapidly dwindling composure) part dutifully as if coerced by a mind of their own. Lena has to swallow a lamentable whimper from escaping her as arousal-slickened thighs part to reveal glistening pale-pink folds, but loses the fight entirely when a gust of cool air flowing across her most sensitive parts rips a choked whine from her throat— _So much for playing it close to the vest_ , she thinks. 

“Rao, Lena, you’re so perfect.”

Kara’s hushed words filter in through her hazy consciousness, and the moment they hit it’s like a tidal wave of reckoning—warmth and fervor and _love_ hitting her square in the gut like a sucker punch, stealing the very breath from her lungs even as a renewed gush of arousal between her thighs has her squirming beneath the pleasurable onslaught, almost drunk on euphoria… and Kara hasn’t even _touched_ her yet. 

Desperate to reclaim some semblance of poise, some illusion of control, she manages a shaky, “You keep talking in circles, Supergirl, but you haven’t yet told me what it is you actually _want_."

Kara snorts quietly at that, and Lena’s thighs begin to tremble with the effort of keeping them so diligently askew, bared wholly unto Kara’s every whim—and Kara (of _course_ ) instantly recognizes Lena’s struggle, sinking fluidly to her knees and steadying either shuddering limb with smooth uncalloused palms, close enough now to Lena’s cunt that every uneven breath ghosts tantalizingly across her slickened folds, goading her with the coveted promise of more. 

“Kara,” Lena implores, needy and raw, hands fisting the sheets even as her elbows tremble with the continued effort to keep her upright. “Kara, _please_.”

Kara merely grins, leaning forward to place the gentlest of kisses upon the fleshy inside of Lena’s right thigh, just below the glistening smear of her own arousal (something that typically would’ve embarrassed her, but she’s too far gone to pay it any mind at the current moment). 

“I thought you wanted me to answer your question?” she teases, murmuring her words against Lena’s pale skin, and Lena doesn’t think it’s an understatement to say that this is the closest she’ll ever get to feeling truly _murderous_.

“Kara Danvers,” she snarls through gritted teeth, “I do _not_ care that it’s your Earth birthday, because I swear to _God_ if you don’t—"

All of a sudden, there’s a wet tongue dragging languorously up through her folds from entrance to clit, and it’s all she can do not to sob and buck her hips wildly into Kara’s mouth because she’s so ridiculously sensitive and it just feels so fucking _good_ and, Holy _fuck_. 

She can’t even find it in herself to muster up a complaint as Kara’s sturdy hands guide her shaking legs to rest over either broad shoulder, allowing her unbounded access to Lena’s most sensitive place, nor does she much register the feeling of Kara’s toned forearm curling ‘round her waist to pin her steadfastly to the bed—all she can focus on is Kara’s mouth, that unfailingly eager tongue lapping adroitly at her slippery folds, teasing her entrance and suckling her clit and driving at breakneck speed towards a shamefully close peak. 

“Kara, I—OhmyGod, right there, please, _please_ —"

She doesn’t know how long they stay like that, Lena writhing futilely beneath Kara’s iron-clad grip as her wondrous mouth drives her higher and higher, ever closer to the heights of delirious pleasure—either way, moments later Lena can feel her lips closing in around her clit, suctioning deliciously and lashing at the almost painfully sensitive bud, giving zealous chase to her rapidly nearing climax even as a finger begins to trace teasingly at her drenched entrance, dipping in one second only to retract itself a second later, seemingly impervious to her wordless cries that beg for more. 

She thinks she can quite literally _feel_ herself skating on the brink of insanity and explosive euphoria, lost in the truly maddening suction surrounding her clit, when she feels it: two digits plunging swiftly into her, burying themselves inside her to the knuckle, stretching her oh-so-perfectly in a way her own fingers never could. 

As soon as the sensation is there, it’s gone—two digits drawing back from her spasming insides, ripping a truly desperate wail from her throat as she begs for it to come back, to feel it inside her again, reaching that special spot along her walls that she couldn’t quite get to on her own—

She nearly screams as they thrust back inside to the knuckle, curling themselves against that special spongey patch against her front wall even as Kara’s lips tighten around her clit and her tongue smothers the aching bud and all too suddenly she’s gone: flung off the edge of orgasmic bliss, her vision whiting out around the edges as tidal waves of pleasure ravage unforgivingly throughout her body, overloading her senses with sheer unadulterated _ecstasy_ , the kind that only Kara can bring. 

The come down is pleasant, gradual, like feather-light flakes of snow drifting lazily down from grey skies overhead; she feels buoyant, content… _safe_. 

Kara is there (like she always is), stroking at Lena’s trembling thighs with gentle touches and whispering sweet nothings against her flushed skin like she deserves it and kissing up her hickey-marked stomach with a tenderness that threatens to shatter her entirely if she ponders on it for too long—what exactly it means, what it _implies_ for her and for Kara and for every other person unlucky enough to find themselves caught in Lena’s septic orbit. 

“ _That’s_ what I want,” Kara’s smug proclamation coupled with a shit-eating grin whisks her back to the present, her lips and chin shiny with evidence of Lena’s arousal, cerulean-blue eyes bright with exhilaration. 

Lena snorts at that. “I gathered as much.”

∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂

(So, yes. Dating Kara Danvers was— _is_ —peculiar. 

Lena wouldn’t have it any other way.)

∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂ ∂

**Author's Note:**

> thoughts? comments? .. concernts?
> 
> (my [tumblr](https://psyches.co.vu/) or just search me up @ultralightdumbass to come talk to me there! not a fandom blog, though, fair warning there)


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